My care giver brought me some movies on DVD that she thought I might enjoy and they have all been great. One in particular was an adventure movie with an interracial love story woven into it. It sort of reminded me of the unlikely love story in the African Queen (another Google search for the age impaired) except for the obligatory sex scene these days. Don’t misunderstand, it was tastefully filmed and I didn’t find it vulgar or offensive; I just found it unnecessary. Some things are better left to the imagination. A deep kiss and fade to a shot of them lying next to each other in bed would have been all my imagination needed. I began to wonder why Hollywood and even TV now leave nothing to the imagination when it comes to blood, gore and sex. Then it dawned on me; we no longer develop an imagination. We no longer read the books or listen to the radio dramas that stimulated my imagination in my youth. Everything has to be in your face to be fully understood. Even online do-it-yourself home projects must be accompanied by a step by step video.
I learned to recognize the difference between history and fiction at an early age, but in either case I was always able to immerse myself in the story and experience what the characters were experiencing. When I began to read the Bible, I was fascinated by the language (KJV was all we had) and the authority with which it was written. I read and reread the Gospels; following Jesus from his heavenly home described in the first chapter of John; to the stable in Bethlehem where he was born into the world he created; to Nazareth where he grew up; to his miracles and ministry; to his trial, crucifixion, burial, resurrection and ascension. By the time I accepted Jesus as my Lord and Savior, I felt I already knew him so very well.
Even back then people were assigning the blame for Jesus’ death. Some blamed religious leaders; others blamed the Jewish people (ignoring the fact that Jesus was a Jew); while still others blamed government (Romans) for his death. I knew, even at that young age, that Jesus could have called a legion of angels to save him. He gave up his life willingly and if I ever feel the need to assign blame for his death, I only have to look into a mirror. It is my sins and your sins that drove the nails in his hands and feet. It is his love for us that motivated him to become a once and for all sacrifice in our place.
My imagination is still very active, but it is stretched beyond its limits when I contemplate eternal life with my Lord. As Paul so aptly quoted, “That is what the Scriptures mean when they say, ‘No eye has seen, no ear has heard and no mind has imagined what God has prepared for those who love him.’” (1 Corinthians 2:9)